


black and white.

by curseandtell



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Romance, Sex, Soft!, Warm fuzzy!, also i am Very Bad At Titles please do not judge by the title, blink and you might miss it, little bit of angst thrown in there, they were just trying to have a movie night ldjflkdjfd, zelda is Selfish but also gets minorly freaked out by post-faustus trauma yay what fun!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseandtell/pseuds/curseandtell
Summary: ...Movie night and chill, Madam Spellman style? Soft-sexy-warm-fuzziness.





	black and white.

**Author's Note:**

> first one-shot, inspired by my own love of classic film and an interview miranda did way back when part one aired, in which she confirmed zelda is also a big fan of classic film. i have not written something like this to share with people in a VERY long time, so uh... please feel free to leave feedback as long as it's presented kindly! usual disclaimer of: i am def way more comfortable writing zelda and am figuring out lilith as i go. this isn't necessarily connected to my story-in-progress, but isn't _not_ connected, either? obvs this would be much further in the zilith relationship.  
enjoy!  
xo,  
c

Asking Zelda Spellman to choose a favorite film was akin to asking a parent to choose a favorite child. And yet, Lilith posed that question innocently enough one morning, when the sun was shining through the sheers and catching Zelda’s hair just so and it occurred to the demon queen that for all the knowledge of her High Priestess she did have, that particular piece of the puzzle was missing. And it was a crucial one, at that, for she had observed enough to know that the witch’s sense of fashion and decorum must have come from _somewhere_.

Perhaps the source was the cabinet of VHS tapes in the sitting room, left open a time or two no doubt by Zelda or Hilda or both, noticed by Lilith on more than one recent occasion. 

The question itself elicited from Zelda a peal of genuine laughter, a rarity so sweet Lilith wished to savor it over and over again—-secretly, of course, for saying so aloud would surely earn the eye-roll to end all eye-rolls. 

“Why in the world should you want to know _that_?” came another question instead of an answer, or anything close to it. Zelda was relaxed, though, sated and happy with her Queen’s head against her chest and her morning cigarette hooked around her finger.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Lilith hummed, her lips brushing the lace edge of the witch’s slip, just where the neckline dipped to its lowest point. “You’re allowed other interests, and I know for a fact you certainly do have them… Hilda’s got her romance novels, and you’ve got your black and white movies. Am I mistaken?”

At that, Zelda practically snorted with laughter. “How do you know about Hilda’s—-never mind, I suppose you know just about anything you wish to know, these days.” 

“And yet, some of your proclivities continue to elude me…” 

Zelda grinned, lips curving around the end of her cigarette. “Hilda, if I recall, has got a date tonight, and the same can be said for Sabrina. What do you say we make a night of it ourselves? I have work to do this afternoon, and so—-” She turned her head to exhale a cloud of smoke, then pressed her lips gently to the tip of the other woman’s nose. “—-have you. Pop back up, when you’re able, and I’ll have the front room turned into our own personal cinema.”

“What’s the feature?” Lilith wanted to know, but Zelda simply kept on grinning that wry grin of hers. 

“Let me surprise you,” she said, and that was that.

________________________________________

An eternity seemed to pass before both Hilda and Sabrina took off for their respective evenings out, believing Zelda to be left content to enjoy the spoils of Hilda’s afternoon baking and indulge in whatever television program caught her fancy. 

They were not wrong about the former.

Zelda was nibbling on a rather decadent piece of caramel-laced-fudge when Lilith arrived, apparating in the usual way—-just after a faint gust of wind which stirred up from nowhere in particular.

“Have I caught you in the middle of dessert?” She did not require an answer; she leaned in to kiss a spot of chocolate at the corner of Zelda’s mouth, mindful not to smear the witch’s oh-so-carefully applied lipstick.

“Hilda made plenty, should you want some of your own.” (It could be argued that Zelda Spellman was as protective of her sweets as she was of her loved ones, meaning: this exact piece of fudge belonged solely and only to her, thank you very much.)

Lilith did not, at the moment, require anything save for perhaps a drink. She helped herself to just that in the kitchen, and once she returned she found exactly what Zelda had promised that morning. With the plush velvet curtains drawn, tall votive candles lit here and there, the room’s already-dark ambience was enhanced just so, just enough to add an air of something theatrical. 

She settled onto the sofa, slipped off her shoes one by one. “And what’s playing at the Spellman Cinema this evening?”

Zelda simply pursed her lips, holding the cassette tape between both hands while still managing to conceal the cover’s title. The chosen film was an old favorite, one she had gone to see during its very first run in cinemas way back when… when movies, as far as she was concerned, had something to say. When going to the theater was an escape in and of itself, somewhere she could go when Hilda’s nagging or Edward’s stubbornness had pushed her well beyond her Satan-given limit. 

“_I Married A Witch_,” she announced, dramatic and teasing all at once, “Starring Veronica Lake and Fredric March.” Those names did not seem to ring any bells with Lilith, because… well, why should they? Nevertheless, Zelda continued, “One of Hollywood’s first successful efforts toward portraying our craft in a flattering light.” 

Lilith wrinkled her nose, half-grinning at her High Priestess’s display of pride. “But… doesn’t the title imply that the witch has married a mortal?”

“Well, yes, she… has, but it… isn’t about _that,_” stammered Zelda, exasperation shining through despite her best efforts. “It’s… that isn’t the point.”

It wasn’t, in fact, the point, but the truth was that after forty minutes or so, neither of them much cared. Zelda, having seen the film more times than could be counted on both hands, didn’t need to keep track of the plot and Lilith seemed more interested in watching _her_ instead. 

The demon noticed the aesthetic similarities between the titular witch and Zelda herself; the long, wavy hair, defined brows and lips and a certain… attitude, but especially the hair—-through the ends of which her own fingers were currently winding, gently, always curious to see how much play Zelda would put up with. Some days proved more forgiving than others.

“I must ask,” Lilith began, twirling another auburn strand around her forefinger, “Did this film have any impact on you? On… this, perhaps?” She gave that strand a light tug, earning from Zelda a coy grin.

“1942 was a defining year in my personal style,” she said, damn near preening already. Lilith’s guess was right on the money, of course.

“I wish I’d known you then.” The admission came softly, sweetly as Lilith kissed the redhead’s hand.

Blush rose in Zelda’s cheeks; she thought of those years often and very fondly, for they represented the era in which she felt most truly herself in nearly three centuries of life. 

“So do I,” she murmured just as soft, angling to press her lips against Lilith’s cheek, just at the corner of her mouth. The idea alone was bittersweet, for that time meant… before Sabrina, before Edward’s death, before so much of the trouble that had lately worn her down. 

What Zelda chose to forget or neglected to recall was that those years held their own particular set of challenges and setbacks. The deaths of each of her parents, for one thing. The establishment of the mortuary under the Spellman sisters instead of the Spellman _family_… Edward’s various affairs and the drama they brought to the Church… Zelda’s own dalliances with witches and warlocks alike… 

“Zelda.” The Queen’s voice brought her back to reality. “Where did you just go?”

_Nowhere,_ thought the witch. She bit the inside of her cheeks, drawing her lips into a tight line, and shook her head once. “Be grateful you know me now. I was… we _all_ were very different back then.”

“As was I.” Lilith tucked her thumb under Zelda’s chin, finding that sweet face soured with a pout. The expression was one she had certainly seen before, and once again she found herself unable to resist kissing it away. 

Zelda played coy as long as she could stand to do so; she knew Lilith was aiming to get her to smile or laugh and she refused to comply simply out of childish petulance. Whatever fleeting bit of emotion had taken over was just that—-fleeting—-and with Lilith’s kiss the mood had begun to shift toward teasing and play. 

At last, Zelda relented, her simper giving way to a positively wicked grin against the other woman’s mouth. Her teeth dragged at Lilith’s lower lip, nibbling and wanting. Kissing was an art, a practice of which Zelda had long considered herself a master. Every time she kissed Lilith, since the very _first_ time, she couldn’t help but think how nice it was to feel that way again. Things with Faustus had been very, very different, and as fervently as she attempted to purge those memories they hung like cobwebs in the corners of her mind, not quite banished just yet. One day, soon, she told herself… 

Lilith reveled in those kisses, in the delicate and not-so-delicate bites Zelda worried along her mouth. Her lipstick tasted, as usual, slightly of vanilla, a taste the demon had come to savor. She eagerly dropped her head back, inviting Zelda to pepper the expanse of her throat with the same attention and Zelda rather greedily took the bait. 

“You are—-” Breath caught in her throat, Lilith fought to keep her voice even. “—-so very exquisite, Zelda Phiona Spellman…” Her fingers had found purchase among silky auburn curls; she now had quite the vantage point to admire the view down the neckline of the witch’s vintage jacket. How very Zelda, to wear a skirt suit in the stifling heat of a Greendale summer… and beneath that suit, so far as Lilith could tell, a lace-lined slip.

Praise was the quickest way to stoke Zelda’s desire. The fact that Lilith seemed to give that praise genuinely, without any posturing or insincerity, made it that much better, that much more… appealing. Their kisses fell into a natural, easy rhythm, aided by Lilith’s shift to lay flat against the sofa cushions and Zelda’s immediate and rather adept swing of one shapely leg across a slim thigh. 

“You want to keep this downstairs?” Lilith asked, the question borne of curiosity and sheer amusement. This was not, after all, a house unaccustomed to comings and goings by its occupants whenever they damn well pleased.

Point taken, Zelda thought, though her mind was already half-gone with arousal now that her hips were bucking slowly but steadily and Lilith’s fingers had begun their gentle work on the buttons of her jacket. A quick glance up at the clock told her it was not yet even nine; Hilda was likely with her beau for the duration of the night and Sabrina… Sabrina was a bit less predictable, but Zelda could not recall in recent memory a time when the teenager had come home before the witching hour on a Friday.

“First time for everything,” was what she said aloud, shrugging this way and that to aid Lilith in removing her jacket. “Be mindful of this, it’s—-”

“Vintage Dior,” Lilith finished, “I read the label, and besides—-I’d like to think I know you well enough by now to know your clothes are not to be treated with anything other than _absolute_ care.” She pushed herself up on her elbows just enough to be able to fold the jacket and lay it very, very gingerly across the seat of the nearest chair.

Impatient as ever, Zelda had already begun to wriggle out of the accompanying skirt. The back zipper was challenging; it routinely caught in a certain spot that she often had to ask for Hilda’s assistance in un-sticking but this time she was bound and determined to get it undone on her own. Luck and perhaps a bit of magic were on her side; she managed to slide the zipper with no damage done, shimmy the pencil skirt down her hips and legs until it too was relegated to the chair, leaving her clad in silk stockings and an ivory-and-grey floral print slip.

“Let me look at you,” whispered Lilith, catching the witch with a gentle but firm grasp on her hips. “Exquisite,” she repeated, breathier this time, “My Zelda, my High Priestess…”

“Yours,” Zelda murmured, leaning down to brush her lips against already-smeared lipstick and slowly, purposefully roll her hips against Lilith’s own. “I am yours so long as you are mine…”

“I am,” the words reverberated against her mouth, “I _am_ yours, and only yours.”

That declaration drove Zelda nearly over the edge of whatever fragile precipice she was balancing on; she sucked a hot breath in through her teeth and let out a noise that registered somewhere between a moan and a purr.

Lilith merely grinned, for she loved to see her feisty girl undone and unwound, loved to know that only _she_ could bring that out in her. She reached up to play between Zelda’s legs, gasping herself when she discovered how deliciously ready and needy the other woman truly was.

A mewl escaped Zelda’s throat once Lilith’s fingers assumed their intended path, and she felt a shiver crawl slowly, pleasantly up the length of her spine. “Lilith,” she breathed out, “You… you _do_ know what you… do to me…”

“Oh, I do.” And just to prove it, she slipped her forefinger first inside Zelda’s silk panties, teasing her sensitivity before going further. “My, my, my…”

Zelda could only laugh, throaty and dry, for she knew damn well just how worked up she already was, how slick and wet she must feel and how… how… easily Lilith could bring her to the brink of ecstasy. Her physical response came in the form of a slow, easy bucking of her hips, riding Lilith’s fingers—-two, now—-as she had done before and would, no doubt, do again and again. She felt powerful, dominant with Lilith’s hips trapped between her thighs and the knowledge that her Queen was watching as she arched and writhed. Never mind the movie; it now served as nothing more than background noise, illumination in the dark. Zelda was the main attraction and Lilith, her captive audience.

Neither of them would have it any other way.

“Lil—ith—-” Zelda’s breath came in stilted, staccato gasps as did her words; the nape of her neck was damp with sweat and she wound one hand through her own hair, gathering it up for relief though the heat was not unusual nor unwelcome. “Goddamn…”

“Cursing already?” Lilith spoke through a lazy grin, one that only widened when Zelda whined in response. Her fingers increased their speed, for she had come to learn the witch’s preferences in regards to rhythm and roughness (or, sometimes, the lack thereof). “Do you want me to make you come this way, or—-”

The question did not need to be posed. Zelda mouthed a breathless _yes_, rocked her hips to further drive home the answer and let Lilith do the rest. Despite her arousal, what played out was something of a slow burn, or rather, slow build to what was sure to be a deafening crescendo. Zelda moaned and mewled while Lilith touched and teased in exactly the right places, and when she came her eyes were closed tight, a string of curses tangled up in her throat. She crashed clumsily onto Lilith’s chest, each and every muscle in her body relaxed to the point of temporary uselessness. Her senses were spent, nerves tingling in the wake of her orgasm… 

“May I?” Lilith held up two fingers, glistening with wetness, anxious for the privilege of tasting her own victory, so to speak. Still out of breath, Zelda lifted her head to nod once in the affirmative, eyes glued to the other woman’s lips as she sucked each finger dry.

“Your turn.” Zelda’s voice was ragged but determined as she leaned in for a kiss, rocking her hips against Lilith’s once more. “How—-how do you want…” The words trailed off; Lilith snaked a hand up into her hair in order to keep her in place for a series of passionate, precious kisses. 

Funnily enough, Lilith was not particularly finicky—-in this regard, at least. Zelda was (unsurprisingly) much, much more high-maintenance about such things. As long as Lilith could look into those emerald eyes and stroke through her hair and worship every inch of her… she was sated, and then some. 

But Zelda was eager to please, and so it wasn’t long before she was pushing Lilith’s dress up in order to graze her teeth along the sensitive skin of the other woman’s inner thighs. Eager as she was, though, something always seemed to stop her from… completing the act, the way Lilith had done for her more times than she could name. 

Despite the natural rolling of her hips toward Zelda’s mouth, Lilith remained keenly aware of what was happening and what might or might not occur. She had no real preference aside from Zelda’s satisfaction and comfort, and she pushed herself up on her elbows in order to reach forward and cup the witch’s chin in her palm. 

“Zelda,” she spoke tenderly, though her voice was low with desire, “Come back up here, my love. I want to see you… I want your mouth on mine.” 

Some relief slipped through, then, even if Zelda did not recognize the feeling as such. She inched up to lay against Lilith’s chest, hearts pounding in tandem as they began to kiss, lips and teeth and tongues engaged and entangled. Lilith managed to hook one leg around Zelda’s thigh, gaining the necessary leverage to grind against her and satisfy the need for touch, for friction. Feeling her heat, Zelda reached down to help, fingers playing at Lilith’s core the way Lilith had done for her. In this, Zelda was confident. She thrust her hips forward, kept her fingers’ dance steady and pulsing the way she knew Lilith liked.

“Fuck,” the swear was hissed through Lilith’s teeth as she felt her muscles tensing tight around Zelda’s fingers, felt the very tip of a pristinely manicured nail graze against her clit. “Yes,” she breathed, “Yes, Zelda—-”

“More of that…?” Zelda hummed, repeating the curling of her forefinger again and again until Lilith let out a half-moan, half-howl signaling her orgasm’s first wave. Biting down on her own lower lip, Zelda watched the Queen of Hell come undone at the very literal flick of her fingers. She kept up until Lilith grasped her wrist, brought those fingers to her mouth and licked them clean, delicately this time. She did not offer Zelda a taste and Zelda did not yet desire it, though she felt sure that soon enough, she might.

The film was still playing, the black and white tones creating a bluish light that bathed the entire room in its glow. Zelda lay her head on Lilith’s chest and shut her eyes, allowing herself to imagine just for a second that this was how it had always been and how it always would be. 

“I want to go with you,” she heard herself say, speaking aloud a request that had lingered long in the back of her mind but remained unsaid. Until… now. “Tonight, when you go back. Take me with you.” 

Saying no to Zelda was never ideal, Lilith knew, but she knew just the same that indulging her in this particular whim was neither safe nor smart. “Hilda and Sabrina would think you’d been kidnapped by witch hunters,” she said dryly, “And besides—-Hell isn’t ready for _you_ just yet, Zelda Spellman.”

She hadn’t expected a yes, had merely hoped… even so, she huffed a pout and turned her head to look up at her Queen. “Consider yourself very fortunate that I—-” _Love_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew better. “—-am as fond of you as I am,” she said instead, managing to toss her hair even from such a peculiar angle.

“Oh, I’m well aware of how fortunate I am.” Lilith pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “One day, my High Priestess, I’ll sweep you off your feet and carry you down to Hell and there won’t be a single solitary thing you can do about it.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” said Zelda, voice gone cold, “I want to go so that I may understand—-”

“I know,” Lilith cut her off, holding up a hand in surrender, “And it wasn’t my intention to patronize you, I was simply… aiming to be romantic.” 

That changed Zelda’s tune. She was suddenly aware of just how quickly she had overreacted, snapped without a second thought. 

“A romantic trip to Hell,” she sighed, snuggling closer into the crook of Lilith’s shoulder. “One day? Promise?”

“Promise.” Sealed with a kiss, in fact, at Lilith’s urging and Zelda’s willing compliance. “And do you promise to show me this film again, if I promise to pay proper attention?”

“Promise,” Zelda whispered, as though there would ever have been any question about it.


End file.
